A Blunder For The Better
by Mithrilquill
Summary: Laina Cousland takes rejection rather badly. But Alistair makes a mending rather well.


A Blunder for the Better

She tried to be understanding. She _said_ she understood. But in truth, as she turned away from him, and walked to her tent _alone,_ -she clenched her jaw tightly, as her eyes grew glassy and hot: she had no idea.

She ducked into the rickety structure, and slumped inelegantly to the ground. _I hate him. How could he humiliate me like that? _

_**Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. **_

_Of course I don't hate him_, her stomach lurched for even thinking it in that first instant. _But after all that's happened_, she reasoned. _After all we've been through, and all we've admitted to each other, __**about**__ each other... _She lifted her bloodied hauberk over her head and threw it aside.

She let out a heavy sigh. But immediately regretted it. She felt weak and frail and overwhelmed with all the air let out of her. A pressure had overcome her and she couldn't do anything to shake it. She laid on her back in her rumpled underchemise and bit her lips to stop them from quivering.

_**Its not the end, is it? No. **_

_What a silly little girl_. She scoffed but it turned to a hopeless hiccup of a sob. She smothered her mouth with both hands and shut her eyes tightly hoping it wasn't loud enough to be heard. She begged the Maker _he_ didn't hear, that he wouldn't come to try and comfort her.

She breathed quietly for a few minutes before feeling it safe to lower her hands back to her side.

_He didn't say he didn't care. He just wasn't ready. I don't want him to be unprepared, or afraid, or nervous. I don't want to be either._ She clenched her fists before turning on her side and curling into a more comfortable position. _I just won't think about it anymore, _she decided. _Not now. _

* * *

*******

* * *

Another darkspawn nightmare ruining her chances of sleep, as rarely as she got the chance. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the dark tent as her eyes adjusted. She lifted a corner of the canvas with her foot. The fire was low and the embers crackled and threatened to give out any minute.

She crawled to her feet and out of the too empty tent, not passing up the chance to be truly alone for even a moment. Especially tonight. So rare was the opportunity, she thanked the Maker. There was firewood to be had.

She walked drunkenly into the surrounding woods, not yet fully awake. And once out of earshot, she stopped and shook her shoulders.

"Wake up, Pup," she recited her father's words.

"You're supposed to let sleeping dogs lay, _Pa_," she whispered her own retort to herself with a small, sad laugh. And carried on, taking a deep breath, chin high.

A glimmer caught her eye. She looked up and smiled at the starlit, midnight sky above her, peeking between the crown canopy of the forest fir. She stopped and surveyed the sky carefully, wrapping her arms around herself. It was getting colder. _Later._

But she wasn't done yet. She gave a last sideways smirk at the sparkling skyscape. _If Alistair were here, he could point out Andraste's shape in the hereafter. _But he wasn't.

She made on her way, looking to the ground as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The forest floor was lush and green and ivy-ridden and crunched under her leather boots. She quickened her pace as she saw a fallen tree, laying on its side. _Deadwood! _

She hunched before the thin thing, barely stretching the length of herself. She determinedly broke off the dry branches and piled them neatly for easy carrying back to camp. She came to a decent stack after a few minutes.

She wiped her hands on her breeches but winced at a small, sharp pain.

_**Damn. **_

A tiny splinter had stuck itself snuggly in her palm. _Of all things, _she snorted to herself. For a moment she thought she could feel her father's rough hands cupping her small ones, 12 years old again, splintered from the wooden longsword Fergus brought from Denerim. Gently pinching out the little pain and wiping away her tears -she always overreacted.

_**I wish he was here. **_

"What have you got there?" a whisper startled her. _What timing, _she thought, unsure with what connotation.

"Alistair, you frightened me," she forced an air of indifference and stood clumsily, still clutching her hand. Alistair gave a half-hearted smirk at her dryness.

"What's the matter with your hand?" he took a step closer.

"Its only a splinter. What are you doing out here?"

"Well, when I woke up and you weren't in camp, I thought it might be smart to go look for you? One of my better ideas, I think."

She huffed.

"Anyway, give it here," he sighed with feigned annoyance.

"Oh, I don't want to trouble you," she gave a small shrug and went to pick up the pile of wood.

Alistair scoffed and grabbed her wrist quickly but gently.

"Don't be so proud, Laina," he said with a laugh. She wrinkled her nose at him.

He ran his fingers slowly over her small palm, feeling for the little pest. He found it poking out just above her wrist.

"This might pinch," he whispered, straining to see her palm in the low moonlight.

He struggled for a few minutes before peeking up at Laina, hopelessly. She gave a condescending smile.

"There's another way to do this, I've heard."

Alistair hand twitched, holding Laina's. He looked up at her eyes and smiled before bringing her palm up to his lips. He pressed his mouth into her cupped hand and gently sucked the splinter from her skin.

Laina blushed pink as she watched Alistair, smug as ever, raise his head from her palm.

"All better, now," he thumbed the smooth, splinter free face of her hand.

"Alistair-"

"Wait, I have a confession. I… was following you this whole time," he cocked his head. "Wait, that didn't come out right."

Laina raised an eyebrow.

"What I meant to say was, I didn't wake up and find you missing and I didn't come out here looking for you to just happen upon you. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't sleep, really. So when I heard you drudging out of camp, I followed you," he admitted guiltily. "I only wanted to make sure you would be safe. You left your armor and sword behind."

He watched Laina's face carefully. She looked embarrassed and uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out in frustration with himself. "Laina, I'm sorry."

Her eyes flickered up to his.

"But I thought, maybe if I gathered up enough courage, I might show you something. I really want you to see this."

"Its not Andraste's constellation, is it?"

Alistair furrowed his brow and looked to the stars.

"Um… No, you can't really see it this time of night really," he moved closer to her, placing his large hand gently on her elbow.

"But I was up all night, thinking about what we talked about," he started. Laina blushed deeply.

"We really don't have to speak about that. _Ever again_, really_." _

He ignored her.

"I was trying to think of someway I could make things clear to you again. Some way I could show you that I care about you. Despite my recent …_apprehensions_."

"You _really_ don't have to explain anything, you don't have to _show_ me anything_,"_ she turned out of his touch and bent to pick up the pile of firewood.

"_Laina,"_ he pleaded. She took a deep breath and shook her head quickly_._

"Alright. What is it?"

"Here," he took the bushel of wood from her hands and set it on the ground at their feet. He took her hand in his and pulled something from under his chest plate.

"Look at this. Do you know what this is?" his voice wavered as he placed a silken rose bud in her hand.

Laina looked from the rose to Alistar's nervous, shaking self.

She remained quiet for a few moments before a humble, but ready smile stretched across her face. She batted her eyelashes at him with an old confidence he was glad to see returned to her pretty face.

"Is this a trick question?" she said with a playful laugh. Ready for her royal bastard to renew his sentiments, and her trust, and her fervor.


End file.
